


60mm

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Danger, Kink Bingo 2013, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:10:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who the hell dressed like that out in the middle of goddamned Afghanistan, anyway? Sebastian wasn't stupid; he recognized bespoke when he saw it, knew the kind of men who owned that sort of thing. The shoes were equally ridiculous, and he allowed his gaze to linger all the way back up to a pair of dark eyes that even in the low light were obviously alight with a certain fire that he damn sure recognized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	60mm

His nerves were shot.

They were shot, and tense, he could hear the mortar rounds coming in, dropping too far from the base to be any fucking use, but close enough that they were moving air support and he'd spent the better part of the evening talking with the Intel folks, because that shit couldn't go on.

It just couldn't.

Half of his guys were wet behind the ears and the other half were so well-seasoned that they didn't even flinch anymore. One way or the other, didn't matter. It had to stop, at least long enough that they could get their shit together and move out.

When their rotation ended in three more months.

He settled against the door of his billeting, a trailer, and lit up a cigarette as he scanned the activity going on in the dark. Saunders was hunched near the back wheel of one of the trucks, and who the fuck knew what he was doing there, but he kept 'em running. Brown was helping him out, and he was pretty sure that he'd last seen Johnson half rocking himself to sleep not six feet away from them all.

There was the duty section out on watch, and he'd already sent an NCO up to thwack them in the back of the head. The mortar noise would do the rest. Sebastian leaned back against the door jamb, and just took a moment to breathe, to feel. To track some scrawny asshole as he made his way towards him in the dark.

Who the hell dressed like that out in the middle of goddamned Afghanistan, anyway? Sebastian wasn't stupid; he recognized bespoke when he saw it, knew the kind of men who owned that sort of thing. The shoes were equally ridiculous, and he allowed his gaze to linger all the way back up to a pair of dark eyes that even in the low light were obviously alight with a certain fire that he damn sure recognized.

Interesting.

"Colonel." Dark voice, smooth as sin, dangerous as poison... although maybe not as dangerous as mortar fire.

Maybe.

He took a slow inhalation, and let the smoke linger in his mouth, before he did more than acknowledge the man with a nod. "Yeah, and how can I help you?"

The way that man tilted his head, curiosity and a sort of... interest marking his expression, made Sebastian feel suspicious. God alone knew his rampant paranoia had saved his arse on more than one occasion. "I've come to make you an offer. Perhaps we could step inside?"

Sebastian lowered his cigarette and dropped it before stubbing it out in the sand. "And what three letter organization are you from? I've got an EA you need to work through."

"I could make up a few if you'd like. More than a few. Even get someone to verify I belonged to all of them, I expect, but this isn't an offer to be made through anyone. You should be pleased; I don't often recruit personally."

He quirked an eyebrow, because it made him wonder if the little bastard knew something about his next rotation that Sebastian didn't. "Step inside. What's your name?"

That twitch of mouth was certainly interesting, and the next mortar hit hard, closer than Sebastian considered comfortable. The man never once flinched. "I have several, but for the sake of brevity... Moriarty."

"Moriarty." He stepped aside, and let the little man meander into his sandy, humid trailer with its struggling air conditioner. "And why are you here?"

Mortar again, and fuck. What, were they going to wait until they were dead to call for evac? "I need a man with your talents." Talents, whatever the fuck, and he was looking around with those bright black eyes, tension in the line of his spine and a sense of fire tracing every motion as though he were made of it.

"What, not getting an airstrike when I fucking well need one?" He stretched as he closed the door halfway behind them. Moriarty was a short little bastard, and nervy, apparently.

"You have other talents." Yeah, no shit, and the man was lounging against the side of his trailer like it was something fucking brilliant. "But I can make that happen for you. I need... something a bit more personal. Someone who has the attention to give to day-to-day matters. Someone who can deliver messages... personally... when I'm displeased."

Sebastian reached up, took his helmet off since they were inside and honestly, if he was going to fucking die he was going to die like a damn man, and get blown up properly. Not that he thought the mortars were ever going to hit on target. "You came a long way looking for a strongman."

That flicker of tongue... something about the way he stood, the line of his trousers, it all clicked together into something like sense. "I can't bear stupidity. You are, while horridly normal... not entirely stupid. That much is clear. I have been watching you, Basty." Sing-song and a little disturbing. "You've got damned good instincts, and enough brains to make them work for you. You were... quite carefully handpicked, in fact."

"I have command." He tilted his head, gestured to the mostly closed door. What he had was a piss poor deployment and too many men dead and injured and just. Anger, and a need to get the fuck out of there. "And I have soldiers who need me."

Slim shoulders shrugged in a careless gesture. "Then bring them _with_ you." Moriarty said it as though it were just so obvious, and another damned mortar came even closer. "Nnngh, I do like the notion of a ready-made army. I should look into that. Or, well." He dropped his gaze, shielded it behind the barrier of sparse lashes. "I already am, I suppose. Do say you will. I would hate to have you killed. You are so..." He licked his lips again. "Delicious."

He laughed, and set his helmet down on the bed. There was the sound of engines coming in, high up in the sky, and Christ, that was a relief. Air support at last. "What do you do?"

"This and that. A bit of almost everything. For lack of a better word, perhaps we will call it... consultation. Don't they say it's best not to tell everything on the first date?" Little smirk. Fuck, he was a lost cause, giddy with the noise above. "Or is that not to put out? Well, I've long since considered that beyond my capability."

He rubbed his hand up the back of his head, and looked down at the floor briefly before cutting his eyes over at the little bright eyed fellow. "You ever been fucked in an officer's trailer in a war zone?"

Fucking sharp-ass smile. Little prick, that was exactly what he was after, and damned if Sebastian wasn't going to give it to him. "No, but I've a feeling I'm about to be."

Sebastian hadn't had a good fuck in months, or a good shower in a couple of weeks, not one that counted for shit, and he was already passing toward more than half hard as he approached the little bugger. "You might want to take your suit off yourself. My hands are dirty."

The slow spread of that toothy smile was fucking fabulous. "Go for it, tiger. This time." Clearly not next time, though, and Sebastian slowed momentarily to wonder what rabbit hole he'd jumped down before striding forwards, intent on fucking the stuffing out of Moriarty.

"This time, huh?" He at least rubbed his palms on his pants before he reached for the man's shoulders to shove that tight suit jacket off.

"This time," he agreed, and that voice was utterly incongruous, dark thick velvet that made him even harder. "Next time, you won't ever see it coming when I decide how to make you suffer."

"Suffer, huh?" He felt his hands stumble or a moment, a brief stilling as he pulled at the little man's necktie. "That's a hell of a way to sweet talk someone into working for you."

He moved fast, too fast, sharp nip of fingers on the end of the motion. "I'm not sweet talking, and you know it." Yeah. Yeah, he did.

"'d be a waste of time." He pulled away long enough to shut the door the rest of the way, even as he could hear the ordinance being dropped in the distance.

At least it was farther away than it had been. Still too fucking close, and it made him wonder. That was something for later, though, because damned if Moriarty hadn't reached up and pulled him down, and his kiss was full of bite, too. Heat and bite, and he took charge, pushed the man back against the flimsy wall until he felt like he was crushing his shoulder blades. That didn't even give him pause, didn't make him so much as move because he was just giving it back, pushing at Sebastian, and his hands were on Sebastian's uniform just like it wasn't filthy, like it didn't stink, and he didn't seem to give two damns.

It was glorious, more of a shoving match than a _hey, how are you_ , and he relished it as he started to kiss Moriarty harder, fighting to undress him at the same time he kept him pinned against the wall. Moriarty didn't seem to mind; instead, he pushed back, pulled at Sebastian's t-shirt so hard he could hear it rip, and shoved a hand further down to make his acquaintance in a rather special way.

"Fuck, yes, you're a feisty little bastard..." He pressed his knee between Jim's legs, pinning firmly in place.

Yes. Yes, and that was a squirm, hard and in position, and when another mortar hit, Bastian could feel the shudder that worked its way through him, and he knew. Knew what a sick little bastard he was and fucking loved it.

Loved every second of it.

"Get your fucking pants off." He hissed it, pressing his leg in harder as he tried to get a hand down between his own legs to shove down the zip.

That laugh was half fucking mad, and Moriarty was squirming, doing his damnedest to get his trousers open and pants off and... he had no idea, and there was a sound that seemed like a rip and yes. Yes, fucking yes. "Move away enough for me to do it."

He leaned down, dropped his head to kiss the line of the man's neck, and leaned his hips backward. "Here's your fucking room." All he'd let him have, and there was another rip, and Christ, what strength that must have taken. Shitload, even if it was the zip that had torn, and he was squirming, struggling to get them off enough for them to fuck.

"Would you just fucking..." Yeah, and then he laughed again. That was getting to be fucking attractive very fast.

"We're getting there," Sebastian murmured, getting his hands cupped around the man's arse before he squeezed it hard.

Huff of breath, and Moriarty threw back his head, leaving the line of his throat open, and fuck. What the hell, he didn't even fucking have anything, goddammit, and... "Here."

"Cherry Vaseline?" He half asked it, half got caught up staring at it, but fuck, it'd work and it wasn't his arse. The line of the man's throat was much more interesting than the gaudy fucking label on the thing, and he leaned back in to suck what he hoped would be an outrageous hickey as he struggled to get the thing open.

"Oh, fucking... yes." Yes, and clearly the hickey was right up the guy's alley, but he squirmed and pulled away. He wasn't surprised that it got snatched out of his hand and opened, the lid lost somewhere in a tumble, and then Moriarty smeared it over his fingers before leaning in and biting the fuck out of his shoulder.

Over his own fingers, and Sebastian wanted to watch it, decided that maybe his sad excuse for a desk was a better place to put Moriarty. "Christ, you're going to open yourself?"

There went that flirty look again. "Unless you'd prefer to do it." It was clear that he knew Sebastian's answer even before he spoke, and so Sebastian shifted him, hustled both of them closer to the desk and shoved him over it. One hand slid back, worked its way between those arse cheeks, and nnngh.

"I prefer to feel your tight arse, christ, you're clearly such a slut, how is it still tight?" And he, he hadn't had anything but his own fucking hand in _so_ long, that it felt amazing when he slid his fingers between that man's arse cheeks as well. The way one leg kicked out, the heel slamming into his thigh probably bruising him, was... hell, he didn't know.

"I'm very selective about who I let fuck my tight arse." Yeah, and fuck. This was going to be fast, and the bombing sounded like... he didn't give a fuck what it sounded like, he was going to nail this little bastard to his fucking wobbly desk.

"And you've done your research on me." It wasn't even a question, because he clearly had, enough to approach him with that offer, with both offers, sex and different work and fuck, he was messed up and half should've been more frightened than he was, but it was hot, it was fucking scorching. Gorgeous, watching those fingers sink in covered in cherry fucking vaseline and listening to him make those velvet hot sounds and he reached down and wrenched his own balls hard to try and get control of himself.

"Unbelievable." He hissed it, pressing his hand hard against his crotch, watching that greedy asshole swallow those fingers and god, the fact that it was going _weirdly_ out there was almost the best part.

The look he got over one clothed shoulder, the flick of tongue, made damn sure he didn't give two good fucks. "Anytime now, darling. Daddy's waiting."

Unbelievable. He reached down, stroked his dick, squeezed the base and watched those fingers ease out slowly. "Shit, I haven't got a condom."

Dirty fucking sharp grin. "Reckon you'll just have to chance it, then."

Common sense said no, no no no, but common sense and him hadn't been talking for a long damn time. He grunted his answer instead and leaned forwards to just fucking do it. To just, just fucking line himself up and shove in, and god. He hadn't done anything so fucking stupid and so fucking amazing in what felt like forever. Deep, dark sound from the little bastard who clearly had to be Satan himself, and his hole squeezed tight around Sebastian every inch of the way as he pushed in and pulled out, slow and in increments because as much as he wanted to fuck the stuffing out of him, he wanted it to last, too.

He wanted to take his fucking time, and god, Moriarty was tight and moaning beneath him, pert little arse thrust up and taking every greedy second. Every fucking inch, and when he wasn't quite seated all the way, there was a big push back, and Sebastian's vision whited out just a little, his hand clenching on one hip so hard he'd leave a bruise with fingermarks later, he was sure.

"Unfucking believable, you're amazing, how the christ, you..." He was massive and usually a strain for even the most seasoned partner, but this little prick's ass was amazing, even if the desk was rocking.

God fucking dammit, but it wasn't going to last long. The son of a bitch probably knew it, too, was counting on it, and was counting on Sebastian wanting more.

Well.

He was damned sure going to get it, too, one way or another, and he pulled out and pushed back in, a rough ride that got faster much too soon, and Moriarty was panting, groaning, hand beneath him and jerking at his cock, and damned if another mortar didn't go off out there somewhere, and fuck, fuck, fuck.

Orgasm was closer to a mortar launch, and he hunched in over Moriarty, half fucking him through it in tiny wild thrusts while his hands dug tighter into narrow hips.

There was no question of whether the fucker enjoyed it; he was making sounds that were pretty damned indicative, and Sebastian felt his ass tighten even when he was half blind from his own pleasure. One good grope around the front of him made it pretty damned certain, too.

They were still panting through the last of it when Sebastian pulled back, and reached down to try to put himself in order again. Moriarty was gorgeous there, still bent over the desk, hole loose and winking, pink, and he could see his own spunk. "Well, Colonel. I assume you'll be taking me up on my offer."

"Suppose I will." There were a lot of hows to work out. "Do you have a timeline?"

The slow spread of that smile sent dirty chills down his spine, and he wasn't sure if they were good ones. "Yes. We should go now, and whatever of your men you'd like to come with us. Once I make a call, I fear there will be... ah... well. I won't spoil the surprise, eh?"

He got his zipper mostly together, and reached for his helmet, moving quick as he reached for his gun, his favourite knife, shit, not much else that he had with him was worth half a shit.

Some things it was better not to ask.

The sound of Moriarty on the phone was soft, barely discernible, and absolutely deadly. Then again, from what he could tell, the man was calling for an air strike that was going to land right in the fucking middle of Sebastian's encampment, so maybe he should be getting his men to-fucking-gether and getting them busy on the evac.

Nothing made sense, none of it, but he could see how the story went -- bodies unidentifiable, unfindable, written off. It was brilliant, except that back home he had a face that was hard to miss in certain circles and they crossed over with criminal circles now and then, too. He pulled away then, started across the courtyard yelling and sharp. "Get your gear, boys. Now! Foot evacuation, there's going to be a helicopter pickup outside of this compound."

So long as they got far enough away, anyhow, and he wasn't surprised when Moriarty moved past him, frenetic energy in the way he paced, the manner in which he made his way through Sebastian's men.

This was going to get very interesting.

"Move out!" He gestured sharply, gave a whistle as he started after Moriarty at a fast clip. Sebastian didn't look behind himself to see who was following, because if he did that they'd slow down.

Anybody who didn't make it out fast enough, well... 

He didn't need them in his cadre, anyway.


End file.
